


Once Upon A Dream

by Wilde_Shade



Category: Twisted Princess (Disney Fanart)
Genre: Dreams, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wilde_Shade/pseuds/Wilde_Shade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle hears a story about two sleeping princesses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starduchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduchess/gifts).



> Many thanks to voksen, who beta'd and helped me climb out of a plot hole.

“Papa, tell me a story.”

“I’m working, girl.” Not that this would be the case for long; it was getting difficult to ignore both the incessant demands and tiny hands tugging at his leather apron. “Go play outside. Fresh air and sunshine. It’ll do ya good.”

“I can’t, Papa. It’s raining.”

“Is it?” Maurice looked up from his work bench. He slid his glasses down to the edge of his nose and looked out the window over their magnified lenses.

Sensing victory, Belle released his apron.

It was indeed raining – and quite hard, at that. Maurice sighed. “And you can’t play in your room?” He was so very close to finishing his newest invention. At least, he imagined so. In truth, it was little more than two lengths of wood that swiveled and gyrated wildly when nudged; certainly not their intended function and of no practical use to anyone at all. Still, he was feeling optimistic.

“I don’t want to,” Belle insisted. “I want to hear a story.”

The girl loved stories. Maurice could scarcely wait until she was old enough to read on her own. He was sure that she would devour books faster a house fire… Which was good, as Maurice’s tinkering had been known to cause those on occasion, so all the better if she were a quick reader.

“All right,” Maurice relented. He untied his apron and lifted Belle up into his arms, leaving dusky handprints on her light blue dress.

“A _new_ story,” Belle added.

“A new story?” repeated Maurice, as her carried her out of the workshop and toward the armchair near the hearth. “I don’t think I know any new stories.”

It was the truth. Maurice was not an avid reader. He had taken to soliciting new tales from locals and pub patrons in neighboring towns. Only a fraction were suitable for children, and Belle demanded new stories faster than he could collect them.

Maurice sat. Belle settled in her father’s lap, snuggling close to him when thunder rumbled outside. “A scary story,” she amended.

“I don’t-” No, Maurice did know a tale of terror or two. He just hadn’t thought to tell them to Belle. “You won’t be scared?”

Belle smiled. “I don’t know,” she giggled, very much wanting to be scared.

Maurice supposed it was all right. After all, it was only a story and Belle was only a child. What better time for a little fear than before you’ve learned the meaning of it?

“If you’re sure that’s what you want,” said Maurice.

“I’m sure,” said Belle.

“Well, let me think of one.” It wasn’t long before one particular story had pushed itself to the front of his mind, though he couldn’t quite remember where it was he had first heard it. “I’ve got one… Once upon a time-”

“I wanted a scary story, Papa,” Belle scowled at him without actually meaning it, assuming he was teasing her. “Once upon a time is how stories for children start.”

“And those can’t be scary?”

Not _really_. Not the ones that started “Once upon a time.” Not the ones that Belle had heard. Of course, she had hardly heard them all. “Can they?” she asked, eyes widening at the prospect of a fictional first.

“I don’t know. Let’s see.” And Maurice began again: “Once upon a time…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Deep in the dark, secret parts of the forest, in a woodcutter’s cottage, lived a girl named Briar Rose.  She was a maiden of singular beauty; with hair of sunshine gold and lips red as the rose. And hers was not simply outward loveliness. No, Briar Rose was kind and thoughtful, lovely in all ways a person _should_ be lovely.

She had been raised by her aunts Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather, three kindly spinsters who loved the girl most dearly.

So dearly did they love her that they forbade Briar Rose speak with strangers of any sort. The forest was Briar Rose’s home; to leave it was forbidden. She was allowed no contact with the world that undoubtedly lay beyond.

Instead of human companionship, Briar Rose found friends in her animal neighbors. She conversed with the squirrel and the rabbit and the owl – all manner of creatures. They were drawn to her singing, for Briar Rose was lovely in all ways, and her voice was no exception.

These animals were her faithful companions when she explored the forest that was her home. And explore she did, for years.

One day, she found a field of wildflowers. They were colorful and bright and almost as pretty as she. She regularly brought a basketful back to the cottage so that her aunts could look upon them too.

One day, she found a pond. The water was clear and warmed by the sun. She told no one of it and some days swam alone.

One day, she found bushes full of juicy berries. These she picked and baked exquisite sweets with.

One day, she found a girl and seven small men. She left them alone, but they did not always do the same for her.

Though she did he best to avoid them, it wasn’t long at all before they managed to come upon her while she swam in her secret pond. Modest as much as she was frightened, Briar Rose submerged herself up to her chin and kept to the rushes.

“I am Snow White, fairest in the land,” said the girl with the seven small men. She chuckled to herself after the introduction, as if it were a joke. And it may well have been. This creature was not at all fair. “Though, I must say… You are a very pretty girl, aren’t you?”

While her beauty may not have matched the title she gave herself, Snow White did indeed match her namesake. Briar Rose had never seen a whiter living thing. The girl’s skin was like unpainted porcelain, veined with jagged hairline cracks. Her hair was dull ebony. Her eyes were nonexistent, black and empty voids.

Briar Rose always saw Snow White with the seven little men and they were, of course, with her now. A length of rope was wrapped around Snow White’s forearm and from it extended seven sturdy leashes. At this distance, Briar Rose realized her mistake: these were hardly seven little men.

More like imps, they were tiny and terrible dwarven abominations. They pulled at their restraints like feral things, saliva dripping from their pointy teeth as fourteen glowing orange eyes fixed Briar Rose with a hungry stare.

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Briar Rose managed after a considerable length of silence.

“We’re not strangers, my dear,” said Snow White. “You know my name. And you… You are the Princess Aurora. We recognize our own.”

Briar Rose shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’re mistaken. I am no princess.” But that was not true.

Briar Rose _was_ the young Princess Aurora. The curse of an evil and powerful fairy had driven her fearful parents to send her into hiding. Not that Briar Rose knew this. What Briar Rose _did_ know was that she had seen this girl often, fully human and more vibrant, in her dreams.

The forest wasn’t the only world Briar Rose had to explore. At night, she walked nebulous dreamscapes. She sang dragons to sleep. She danced with handsome princes. She talked softly to girls in glass coffins. In reality, Briar Roses’ kindly aunts were actually three good fairies. And, as you surely know, fairies are magic. Though they had sworn off the use of magic, (lest it alert the evil fairy to their presence) small miracles hung over them like a shroud. It was inevitable that some of it might sneak in, when we humans are at our most vulnerable, when we are blank and buoyant in sleep’s slowly receding tide.

“No, I am sorry,” said Snow White. “It was my mistake. Until we meet again, my dear.” She yanked hard on the rope of the little men and left Briar Rose in her secret pond. They did not see each other again for several years.

 

This was not to say that Briar Rose did not meet any other strangers in the forest.

On her sixteenth birthday, Briar Rose met a boy named Phillip. He was drawn by her melodious voice and found her among her animal companions.

Briar Rose’s thoughts, like those of most girls her age, had turned to grand imaginings of love. And, as the boy listened, she sang of such things made real in her dreams. She sang of Phillip. Not that either of them knew this. Briar Rose did not know of her visitations to the private worlds magic helped her intrude upon, and Phillip had a tendency to forget his dreams upon waking. What Phillip did know was that this girl was beautiful. And _his_ imaginings, like those of most boys his age, did not work at cross-purposes with hers.

Phillip intruded upon her song, startling the girl. She was, after all, not permitted to speak with strangers.

“But don't you remember?” asked Phillip. “We've met before.”

“We- We have?”

“Well, of course. You said so yourself. Once upon a dream.”

Briar Rose’s heart grew fluttering wings. It isn’t every day that a girl’s dreams become reality. She was sure this was what love must feel like. The moment seized her and she lost herself in the rush of being in his arms.

But Briar Rose was a good girl. Upon remembering herself, she hurried back home – but not without inviting the prince to pay her a visit that night.

Still glowing with excitement, Briar Rose relayed the encounter to her aunts. They took the news with heavy hearts. Briar Rose was sixteen this day, the day they had sworn to the king and queen to tell her the truth.

They told her of her parentage. They told her of the journey to the castle they must shortly make. When Briar Rose, now Princess Aurora, had cried for some time, they explained to her the rest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Why was she so sad?” asked Belle, who could think of few scenarios in which being told you were actually a princess would not be an exceptional birthday surprise.

“Hmm?” Pulled from his storytelling, Maurice took a moment to consider her question. “Well, as a princess, she was betrothed already. I suppose she really liked that Phillip fellow.”

“Were they in love?”

“What? Oh, no. No, probably not… How should I know? …At any rate, she was probably upset for other reasons, too.”

“What other reasons?”

“Well, uh… she wasn’t Briar Rose anymore, was she? She had to be Aurora now. And her aunts! They were actually fairies. How would you like it if I told you that your name was Princess Daybreak and I was actually a wizard?”

Belle grinned. “Papa, I would love it!”

Maurice snorted. “Ah, well, what if I told you that you were only so smart and pretty because I put a spell on you when you were just a baby?”

Belle shrugged her small shoulders.

“Those fairies, Flora and Fauna, blessed Princess Aurora with her beauty and her singing voice right after she was born.”

“What about Merryweather?”

“Huh?”

“The other fairy, Papa. The other good one.”

“Oh, right.” Maurice really was a subpar storyteller. His mind tended to go in too many directions at once for it. “She was _supposed_ to bless the child, but the evil fairy Maleficent interrupted her. She was offended that _she_ didn’t get invited to see the newborn princess. She was so mad, she cursed Aurora.”

Belle gasped. She was an excellent audience, regardless of the quality of storytelling.

“On her sixteenth birthday, Aurora was supposed to prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die. So Merryweather used her blessing to make it so that Aurora would only fall asleep - a magical sleep she wouldn’t wake up from.”

“Is that better?”

“I suppose it is when true love’s first kiss can wake you up… Anyway, the fairies took her off to hide her from Maleficent, and now they had to take her back to the castle, but…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh my, you really _are_ the Princess Aurora. Isn’t that a surprise?” Snow White did not sound surprised at all. “But wherever are you off to? Surely it is much too late for someone such as you to be traveling through this dangerous wood… Even with your mighty entourage.”

Flora raised a hand to still the others. “Stay back, you loathsome creature.” When she was still Briar Rose, Aurora had told her aunts of the girl in the forest. The fairies recognized her as the former princess of a neighboring kingdom. Her stepmother had been cruel, and the girl had not had the advantage of fairy magic. They had pitied the girl who, while quite clearly no longer human, was unfortunate in her way.

Now, however, was not the time for pity; now was the time for diligence. Snow White’s timely arrival hardly seemed coincidental. Flora regretted not being more cautious and, perhaps, heeding Merryweather’s more prudent suggestions in how to deal with the girl.

Snow White did not stay back. She stepped forward, trapping the lot of them in the doorway of their own cottage. She relaxed her grip on the dwarfs, letting them come scant inches from Aurora. They were so close that their teeth started to shred the skirt of her traveling dress.

The fairies placed themselves between the dwarfs and Aurora. Merryweather, brashest of the three, even kicked one in its nose. (Or, rather, where its nose would have gone had it still had one.) The thing caught her by the ankle and would have sank its teeth through bone had Snow White not jerked the lot of them back.

“Careful,” she warned Merryweather. “That one’s grumpy.”

“What is it that you want?” asked Fauna, forcing a smile.

“Who cares what it wants?” fumed Merryweather. “Look at that thing. It’s evil.”

“Oh, you don’t know that,” said Fauna. “She’s never given us any trouble before.”

“Probably because she was waiting,” Merryweather mumbled back – but Flora thought the question of some merit and repeated it.

“What is it you want, child?”

“I want nothing,” Snow White assured them. “I wished only to give the fair princess a birthday gift – a parting gift now, I suppose.”

Flora began to object, but Snow White interrupted her and slid an unlit lantern from the rope around her waist.

“Perhaps it will help you on the journey.” She uttered a harsh word to her dwarfs. When the monstrous things had fallen back, she stretched out her arm and offered the lantern to Aurora.

“There’s no place for a candle,” observed Aurora.

Snow White smiled a kind smile that made the cracks in her face grow wider. “That’s because it’s for bugs, dear. The little glowing kind.”

A thoughtful girl, Aurora had always thought those sort of lanterns cruel, but she would never have thought to insult a gift, whatever it might be. “Thank you,” she said and reached for it.

“Don’t touch her,” warned Flora.

“Keep away from those monsters,” warned Merryweather.

“Let me,” said Fauna, and took the lantern.

The moment Fauna touched the lantern, she vanished. The lantern fell to the ground. Inside, a small green light glowed.

“Fauna,” gasped Merryweather. She reached to snatch the lantern from the dirt - only to vanish as well.

Uncertain, Aurora dropped to her knees where she stood.

“Don’t touch it!” But Flora’s warning came too late.

Fortunately, the princess had not vanished. She sat holding the lantern level with her eyes. Inside, specks of light darted about, winged and glowing and frantic.

Flora raised her wand on Snow White and gripped Aurora’s shoulder with the other; she dared not touch the lantern herself.

Aurora’s fingers worked furiously, first at the top of the lantern and then at the bottom. She jammed her fingernails into the metal seams and pulled until they broke and bled. There was no lid, no visible way to pry it open. She considered smashing the thing against a tree or perhaps a rock, but she feared harming her loved ones inside.

“Don’t trouble yourself, dear,” said Snow White. “It does not open, and it will not break.”

Flora tried to magic herself and Aurora away on a cloud of rainbow mist, but Snow White set her dwarfs upon them.  The lantern tumbled dangerously close to Flora in the resulting scuffle. It was all the fairy could do to magic herself smaller and hover above it all.

“What use is your magic here?” asked Snow White. “Run off, now. Shoo. Maleficent will be here soon.”

Flora knew Snow White spoke the truth and, though it pained her greatly, she made a hasty retreat. If she had any hope of saving her sisters _and_ the Princess Aurora, she would need to pick her moment.

 

Snow White bound Aurora with rope and dragged her along like one of her dwarfs. Under threat of their hungry little eyes, she complied. Into their small cottage, she was ushered. It was a cold, damp place; lived in, but not a home.

Snow White let loose the ropes around her forearm. Aurora backed into a corner and held the lantern tight to her chest. At her feet, the dwarfs grinned vicious grins.

“Don’t touch her now, pets. Gentle, gentle.” Snow White sat down at a spinning wheel in the corner. A fine but well-worn dress lay draped over the wheel. “For you,” she said indicating the wheel and looking rather pleased with herself. She took the dress into her lap and pulled a long and slender needle from the hem. “Also for you… in a sense,” she said, easing into her sewing with the air of one unaccustomed to it. “It’s not something I would normally do. I just want you to look your best.”

Already emotionally drained, Aurora could not find the will to remain _very_ frightened for long. After all, being frightened requires a deceptive amount of energy and they were waiting there for an awfully long time. Remaining very still, Aurora looked about the little house. And, indeed, it was very little.

The doors were little. The furniture was little. It was all perfectly scaled to the little monstrous men before her. The only object her size was the spinning wheel in the corner. It made Aurora wonder.

“Who _are_ you?” she asked Snow White. “Who are you, really?”

Snow White saw no reason not to answer her. Despite being very evil, Snow White was rather lonely. Everyone gets lonely. _Especially_ the very evil.

Snow White raised her head up from her sewing. “I was once a great queen. You wouldn’t believe it to look at me now, but… oh. I was beautiful.” The voids of her eyes fell upon nothing at all. She tilted her head, mouth slightly agape: a thing from a nightmare lost in a dream. “Fairest in the land. Any land. But I was no princess like you, dear.

“My father was a baron, original nobility. I had a boorish stepmother, three slovenly sisters, and I- well, _I_ had ambition… and a knack for the black arts. I charmed the royal family so. The queen adored me. I was her dearest friend, the poor girl, very sickly.  I eased her passing and comforted the king when the time came.

“I needed no spells to turn his head. We wed that winter. I became queen and mother to his young daughter. She was spoiled, ungrateful, but the people loved her. They said I killed her mother, called me murderer. And the king! The king doted on her. I tolerated  it - for his sake, for the memory of the girl’s… poor, late mother.

“I… did as best I could with what power I was given.  The subjects still loved their king… and the young princess. It was me they despised. My magic could do little to counteract that. I used it mostly to listen. I heard the things they said about me - and they said all manner of dreadful things - but they could not deny my beauty.

“How could they blame the king? I was so lovely, they said. Even strong men such as he are weak against such loveliness… And then the king died. The people revolted. I kept control. And, if it is possible, they despised me more… But I was still beautiful to them. Beautiful and terrible and legendary. They told stories of my beauty… and of the young princess’.

“They preached of her beauty with such conviction, with such fervor, as if she were a cherub that might blossom into a glorious angel one day. She would save them all, righteously strike down the wicked queen. I hid her from the world and hoped time would prove them wrong.

 “But they were right. What was I to do?” Snow White sighed. Her expression hardened. “I bade a huntsman to cut that sweet little heart from her chest. He betrayed and tricked me. She found refuge in the forest. Seven dwarfs had taken her in, dwarfs that loved her as much as they abhorred me.

“When I discovered the huntsman’s treachery, I decided to attend to the matter personally. I disguised myself as a crone and, when the dwarfs were at work in their mines, I paid the girl a visit. The naive little thing never was very bright. She didn’t have the sense to be wary of strangers, not like you do.

I gave her an apple poisoned with the sleeping death. All it took was a bite and then she was asleep forever…”

“Does she dream?” asked Aurora.

“Does she dream?” Snow White repeated and laughed. “What a question. I suppose you of all people have a right to know… Why do you ask?”

Aurora had often dreamed of Snow White, the real Snow White. She slept in a glass coffin, surrounded by dwarven mourners. Some nights she awoke to the kiss of a prince, and they rode off toward a glorious castle in the clouds. Most nights, she just lay there, asleep and waiting.

“I was just curious,” said Aurora, lowering her gaze.

“I really wouldn’t know,” said Snow White. “At any rate, the dwarfs thought her dead. They buried her in a shallow grave next to the garden. Of course, this was after they had chased me down. I got careless. I fell. I hovered outside of my body and watched the vultures pick the skin from my bones.

“Maleficent found me then. I was her protégé once – an assistant now. She offered me help, for a steep price. She took my castle and the kingdom; transformed my subjects into creatures to do her bidding. In return, I was given the body of the fairest in all the land.

“The body was already in a sorry state, of course. Digging myself out of that grave was demanding work. Almost everything is. See these cracks? You can’t imagine what an effort it is to hold ambition such as mine within such a pathetic little shell.”

Aurora thought it more likely that Snow White’s body was simply rejecting the queen’s wretched soul.

“I do hope that your body will prove a better host.”

Aurora was confused and, understandably, alarmed. Before she could ask any further questions, a gust of wind threw open the door. Maleficent entered. The dwarfs cowered and Snow White rose to curtsy.

Maleficent was a terror to behold: all in black, with twisting horns like a devil. Her presence was powerful and cold. Aurora felt a chill as the dark fairy approached her.

“A little birdy told me you’ve done very well,” said Maleficent, wrenching the lantern from Aurora. She smiled a thin smile at her sisters. “And so you have.”

“Of course,” said Snow White. “Don’t I always?”

“No. Not always… I see Flora is missing.”

“You said that it wasn’t necessary I catch them at all. She’s just one fairy. Is it a problem?”

“I am also just one fairy… But, no. I am not overly concerned. She is near, no doubt.” Maleficent smiled to herself at this. She did not believe that Flora would show herself. Merryweather was headstrong and may well have. But Flora? No. She had seniority over the other two and unspoken authority, but her magic was ineffectual, useless without a living catalyst. Maleficent could think of one such catalyst, but there would be time to see to him after the business of Aurora’s destiny was concluded. “Come here, child.”

Maleficent beckoned for Aurora to come closer. The dwarfs parted at her gesture. Aurora did not want to approach, but it was as if the part her consciousness that commanded her body had retreated somewhere out of reach. She went: first to Maleficent, and then to the spinning wheel in the corner.

Slowly, very slowly, she reached out. With one finger, she touched it. With impossible sharpness, it pierced her skin, but the princess did not fall asleep.

A single drop of blood beaded on the princess’ finger. Maleficent watched with fascination, Snow White with mounting concern. Everything in the small house seemed to lighten, lifting up ever-so-slightly with a tangible energy.

Maleficent’s curse clashed disastrously with the imprisoned Merryweather’s blessing and Snow White shrieked in horrified rage as the needle from her sewing gained a life of its own long enough to sew shut the Princess Aurora’s eyes.

This was all a happy accident to Maleficent, who stayed Snow White with a touch and the promise of violence should she interfere.

“That is _my_ body, Maleficent! You have no right! You have _no_ right!”

Aurora collapsed to the floor, magically dazed but still quite conscious. Her cheeks were streaked with blood and silent tears. When it became clear that she was not falling into any enchanted sleep, Maleficent ordered Snow White to fetch what was left of her sleeping death.

Snow White kept the apple in a small box with a heart-shaped latch. It would have long since rotted away, but lingering magic had preserved it as a sort of congealed mush. A bite of this was what Snow White pushed into the Princess’ mouth, and it was only now that she fell asleep.

Flora had not found help in time. She was no fairy godmother. While she did care dearly for Aurora, her sisters were more important to her. This left Flora feeling both lost and deeply ashamed. What would she do alone? What _could_ she do? How could she tell the king and queen of her failure?

Rather than tell them, she put the entire kingdom under a sleeping spell. In doing so, she overheard talk of Prince Phillip, who Aurora had been betrothed to - the same Philip Briar Rose met in the forest. A headstrong boy, he had fled before the princess’ arrival to meet with her that very night.

Flora flew as fast as she could but, again, was too late: Maleficent had captured the poor young man already. It was in her castle dungeon that she, at last, found him. She explained to him how very grave the situation was and released him from his chains.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“And then he went to save the princess,” said Belle, anticipating what came next. She always liked this part - it was always very exciting.

“Well, he tried,” explained Maurice. “But the powers of Hell were too much for just him and a fairy. He was killed before he ever got to her.”

“Oh,” said Belle, wide-eyed. “But… what about the princess?”

“Snow White couldn’t cut the thread from her eyes. The body was useless, so Maleficent gave her Aurora’s castle instead. I guess that’s better than a little cabin in the woods. Aurora was moved into the tower. She kept right on sleeping, and so did everyone else.”

“Did anyone else ever come along and save her?”

“They might have, but Maleficent surrounded the castle in a huge wall of thorns.” He raised his hands for emphasis. “No one’s managed to get in there yet.”

“Yet?” Belle repeated. “That’s not how it ends, Papa!”

“It isn’t?”

“It can’t be!”

Maurice scratched his head. It really was a bad place to end a story. “That’s where this one ends.”

“That wasn’t a very good story.”

“They can’t all be good stories.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle tried to get a second story out of Maurice in the three hour window before bedtime.

“No,” he kept insisting. “I’m not even sure why I told you the one that I did.”

That was the truth of the matter. It had seemed like a much better idea at the time. The story itself had sounded much better in his head. They always did, but this was different.

“Goodnight, Belle,” said Maurice.

“Goodnight, Papa,” sighed Belle.

She hugged his neck then snuggled into her covers as he dimmed the lamp and closed the door to all but a crack. After a few minutes, she heard him back at his workbench. The tinkering and the occasional frustrated mutterings were normal, comforting sounds. Belle drifted into dreams by degrees.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle was flying through the forest. There was no ground for miles. She had a house in the clouds where she kept the kind of animals she saw at carnivals; only not cramped and caged and sickly, but free and ferocious and also loyal – only to her. She told the birds about them. They were so impressed that they brought her sweets and stories from distant lands.

“Belle.”

A voice pulled Belle from the chaos and granted her lucidity. The dream landscape melted away to darkness. She knew that she was sleeping now and supposed she would wake up soon.

She did not. Instead, a woman appeared. She was young and beautiful. Her hair was sunshine gold and her lips were like rosebuds. In the darkness, she glowed.

“Hello, Belle,” she said. She knelt down and beckoned Belle closer.

Belle approached the woman, who pulled a rose from dream ether and handed it to her. It made Belle smile, despite her apprehension. It felt so real.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the woman.

Belle shook her head, shyly.

“I think you do.”

“Um,” said Belle. “Briar… I mean, Aurora the princess?”

“That’s right.” Aurora gathered Belle into her arms. She sat. A comfortable armchair that was more throne than casual spot for reclining materialized beneath her. “I came to finish my story. Do you want to hear the rest?”

“Oh.” Belle’s eyes widened. “Yes, please,” she said, delighted that a story could be this cooperative.

“Good,” said Aurora and began, “Once upon a dream…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Aurora was not alone in her dreaming. With the two trapped fairies imprisoned with her in that tower, she still had some control over the shape her dreams took and the worlds she explored. There, she met her mother and father for the first time since her infancy. Sadly, they were without fairy magic, and it was not a happy reunion. The kingdom, still under Flora’s spell of sleep, was lost in the dream world. Like most dreamers, they drifted between oblivion and nonsense without realizing.

Aurora would have rather Flora faced the kingdom with their failure. It seemed awful to put so many people under an enchantment just for a princess they’d never truly known - just for her.

Most of Aurora’s interactions with the dream world were like this. Without Flora’s magic added to that of the other fairies, Aurora could only watch and shape. She could not speak to other dreamers, not well. Attempting to do so was like conversing with someone who’s mind has already gone.

There was only one Aurora found to speak with. Snow White, the real Snow White, was still in her glass coffin. Seven dream dwarfs still watched over her. Sometimes a dream prince would still come.

She seemed disturbed by Aurora’s presence, though. To hear Aurora explain her own plight caused Snow White great distress. And Snow White only really came alive when her prince was near. It seemed cruel to trouble her with reality.

So Aurora explored. When she was tired of the fantastic and unreal, she found a way outside herself. She looked down on herself as she slept. Her eyes were still sewn shut. Near her was the lantern containing Merryweather and Fauna. They were all kept there like trophies, relics stored away to be visited on occasion.

The false Snow White visited them. She was a Queen once more, but she resented that. Often she would come to gaze upon Aurora and curse her sewn eyes and her kingdom of sleeping subjects.

No one ever came through the wall of thorns and no one ever left; no one except Maleficent’s familiar, a raven that sometimes delivered messages to the Queen. These letters did nothing to assuage the Queen’s anger and, all alone in her castle, she was lonelier than ever.

Aurora, once so compassionate, could find no room in her heart for pity. New emotions were stirring inside her, emotions that made her strong.

Aurora learned. She watched the Queen pore over ancient scrolls and dusty tomes. She watched her perform petty spells, vain spells, spells to make her sleeping subjects into something of use. All of these spells failed.

Aurora caught the magic and shaped it with her hands. She learned the smell of it, the taste of it, the insubstantial feel of it.

As time wore on, Aurora grew quite powerful and the Queen grew quite mad. To keep her own sanity, Aurora walked with Snow White when she left her coffin. She kept pace with the prince’s horse and discussed inane things – the weather, attendance to a wedding that would never happen, Aurora’s homecoming gone differently.

“Oh, that’s a delightful story. You and your Prince Phillip will come to the ceremony, won’t you?”

“Of course we will! Of course!”

But no prince was coming for Aurora. Not even a dream prince like poor Snow White’s. Aurora wept about this less and less and began to concentrate on magic more and more. The power, she realized, came from the mind and not Hell; though she supposed now she could see how one might confuse the two.

Aurora harnessed her own magic and channeled the more whimsical magic of the fairies. She ripped the Queen from Snow White’s body as she slept and dragged her screaming into nightmares, imprisoning her into the darkest of dreams for no reason that she knew.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“For revenge,” said Belle, explaining Aurora’s story back to her.

Aurora laughed, pleased by such a candid response. “That’s not a reason, though. Is it? Not a very good one.”

“She was evil. That’s enough of a reason.”

“Shh.” Aurora put a finger to Belle’s lips. “She’ll hear you talking about her.”

Belle looked out past Aurora’s light. For the first time, she noticed the dark things in the shadows. Nightmare beasts with limbs like smoke and eyes like tiny button bonfires moved around them, making the whites of their teeth show when they screamed. They clawed and slapped their hands against the place where darkness ended.

Belle made a small frightened sound and moved closer to Aurora.

“Don’t be scared. It’s easy enough to drive her back.” Aurora summoned a hearth beside them. A cozy fire blazed up, forcing back the shadows and casting unexpected light on a visibly startled woman.

“Who’s that?” whispered Belle.

“Snow White,” said Aurora. “I think she’s here to listen to the story.”

Uncertain, Snow White gathered her skirts and began to rise from the floor.

“She can, of course, _stay_ and listen, if she so wishes,” Aurora added raising a ladylike hand to her mouth and smiling behind it.

Snow White sat back down. She smoothed her skirts out again and sat a little straighter than she had before.

“I did not want revenge,” Aurora continued. “I wanted something far more useful. I just didn’t know what that something was yet. But then I saw Snow White lying there, an empty shell without a soul. I saw myself in her. Neither of us had asked for any of this. We were so young and so passive as others worked their wickedness around us. And I didn’t want us to sleep anymore, not like this. I kissed her, and Snow White woke up.”

Belle was confused. “And that was true love’s kiss?”

“Yes, it was. There are many kinds of love, not just romantic love,” explained Aurora. “And I imagine it would be unusual for true love’s _first_ kiss to be romantic love.”

Still, Belle’s confusion persisted. “So you were her prince?”

Aurora laughed again. “Yes, I suppose I was,” she said. “Am I still? That’s the real question, isn’t it? Am I still your prince, Snow White?”

Snow White’s pale face turned very red.

“Did you wake up, too?” Belle asked Aurora.

“No,” said Aurora. “I did not.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Snow White did not adjust to the physical world well. It was a lot to take in. Her body had become monstrous in her absence. The seven little men she remembered had become monstrous as well. She was trapped in a strange castle where no one seemed to do anything but sleep and sleep and sleep.

With her magic, Aurora communicated with Snow White. She did her best to comfort her and prepare her for what must next be done. They prepared to leave the castle but, although powerful, Aurora could not venture very far into the physical world without her body.

Snow White took the fairy lantern and, though she was frightened, bound to her arm the rope that restrained her seven dwarfs. Aurora placed the Queen into her own slumbering body. Blind and confused, the Queen was loath to obey Snow White’s meek commands. The dwarfs were no longer hers, however, and when they began snapping at her heels, the Queen became quite obedient. She knew only too well what the little beasts were capable of.

Aurora followed behind the Queen and parted the wall of thorns. The Queen walked ahead of Snow White, sometimes on her hands and knees, stumbling and scratching herself. The woods were no better and, by the time they’d marched her all the way to Maleficent’s castle, she was a mess of dirt and blood, leaves clinging to her golden hair.

Maleficent came out to meet them before they’d even reached the main gates.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, stroking the black raven that glared menacingly at them from her shoulder.

At the sound of her voice, the Queen stumbled forward in Aurora’s body. “Maleficent!” she cried, arms outstretched in supplication. “You must help me! Look what they’ve done!”

“They?” Maleficent caught the Queen’s arms as she fell to her knees. She tilted her chin upward, looking down into the face that should be slumbering in a tower still. Her eyes widened. “Minions!” she shouted.

Her goblins came in droves. They poured out of her castle, shouting and brandishing weapons. On Maleficent’s orders, they converged on Snow White. Her dwarfs pulled their ropes taut and Aurora wove spells to protect her. Snow White silenced them all with an unexpectedly loud, “Wait!”

Snow White recognized this castle. The body she had not used in years showed her memories of the Queen’s dealings and of Maleficent’s part in them. These goblins had once been the subjects of her father.

“Go. Oh, please just go,” she told Aurora. “You must see to Maleficent before she realizes you’re here. You _must._ ”

Aurora did just that. She went to Maleficent and reached for her soul as she had done with the Queen, trying to pull it from her body. But this was different; whether it was because Maleficent was not human or because her body had always been her own, Aurora did not know.

Maleficent reeled back, her sharp eyes finding the real Aurora. “You little sneak!” she said, her lips curling. She was just a bit impressed.

Maleficent conjured shadow beasts that tore bleeding swathes across Aurora’s dream body. She summoned storms that whipped Aurora about and left her sodden with rain. She transformed into a terrible dragon and breathed green flames that made Aurora’s flesh blister and burn.

Aurora caged the shadow beasts. She made a canopy so huge that it shielded her from rain and deflected the winds. She summoned a shield and pressed on through the flames. She went into the dragon’s breast and tried to grip the tiny black heart inside.

Aurora was very strong, but Maleficent was stronger. Aurora was thrown back again and again. She was persistent, but she was losing.

 

Not very far away, the goblins had given up on attacking Snow White. They had run her through with spears and lopped off limbs, but still she kept right on feeling very sorry for them. “Oh, you poor things,” she cooed, as her body knitted itself back together. “You poor, poor dears.” She would have wept had she been able.

 The goblins recalled her vaguely and, perhaps, sensed that they deserved the sympathy. They let themselves be kissed and petted. It seemed a better use of their time than trying to kill something not alive to begin with.

Flora was not sure what to make of any of this. This creature had her sisters but was clearly not the same monster who had imprisoned them.

They worked a bargain.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“To wake up all the people she made sleep?” asked Belle. She had not forgiven Flora for shirking her responsibilities like that. It made Belle think of the time she had accidentally broken one of her Papa’s inventions. She reasoned that even though she had been fairly confident she could fix it (she couldn’t) and even though she knew her Papa would undoubtedly be very angry and sad at the news (he had been) she would not have put him to sleep with fairy magic, given the option.

“No,” said Aurora. “Though I would have liked that very much, she was unable to reverse the spell. The Queen had worked more spells on top of Flora’s, though hers hadn’t worked. She had wanted minions of her own, like Maleficent’s but more human. Flora was no more able to separate the two magics than I was… And I did try. I still try.”

“I’m sorry,” said Belle, sensing Aurora’s deep sadness at this. “Please tell me the rest. What was the deal?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Aurora woke up.

“I wasn’t sure that would work,” said Snow White, terribly embarrassed. “I’m ever so sorry.”

Aurora was quite alarmed. Maleficent was still out there and would surely be upon her again soon – and now? Now she was in a mortal body; without sight, disoriented and confused.

Snow White calmed her. She told Aurora that she had turned Maleficent’s minions on their own master. They had her sufficiently distracted for the time being.

“How did you manage that?” asked Aurora.

“Well, they are _my_ people,” said Snow White, sounding surer of that than anything. “But do please hurry and see to that wicked fairy. Here, your aunt Flora asked me to give you this.”

Snow White presented Aurora with a small box and the lantern, now filled with three fairies instead of two. Aurora armed herself and steeled her courage. With Snow White and her seven dwarfs as an escort, she turned back for Maleficent.

Aurora could hear the goblins shouting and their weapons clattering useless to cobbles slick with their blood. She could hear the dragon roar and breathe fire and crush the ground into rubble beneath her might. And it wasn’t long at all before the dragon picked her out amongst the rabble. She saw her and knew at once that the one within Aurora’s body was no longer the Queen.

Maleficent ignored the traitorous goblins and snatched Aurora from the ground with one massive foreclaw. Aurora raised the lantern in one hand and a sword in the other.  The dragon was amused by the sight of both, finding it laughable that Aurora thought these effective weapons against one such as her.

Aurora took the blade - coated in remnants of an apple tainted by the sleeping death - and drove it down through the dragon’s thick hide.

Maleficent fell asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“And then you lived happily ever after?” asked Belle.

“And then I killed her,” answered Aurora.

“Oh,” said Belle. “What happened after that?”

“Well,” began Aurora, and she then recounted the story of ever after and up until now…

 

 

* * *

 

 

To people of the waking world, Aurora was a witch. She wandered the forests with her animals and worked spells both wicked and wonderful. A wall of briars separated their world from hers and that suited them just fine.

But Aurora’s true domain was dreams. With her own magic and that of three fairies, she made her castle anew. She brought lucidity to the dreamers there and had a real reunion with her mother and father. She shaped the world for them and was their princess.

Snow White was a princess, too. (The goblins very much disliked the title of “Queen.”) She was a kind ruler, fair in all things except, perhaps, beauty. Any who wandered in from the woods were welcome.

Young girls came, mostly. Scared ones, ones without homes, ones who weren’t always human or completely alive. Snow White’s presence seemed to draw them in like a beacon in a storm. Her tenderness kept them there and together they kept out those who might do them harm.

Having been asleep for so long, Snow White was very good at dreaming. She no longer had time for princes and cloud castles, but she did visit Aurora nightly. She was always welcome in that kingdom and the two became very close.

And ever after, they lived in their castles. And ever after, they protected those who meant the most to them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“The end?” asked Belle.

“Not yet,” said Aurora. “But, yes, that is all I have to tell you tonight, sweet young princess.”

“Thank you for the story,” said Belle, always polite when she remembered to be. “Will you come tomorrow night and tell me another?”

“No,” said Aurora. “But we’ll meet again someday, I know it.”

“We will?” asked Belle.

“Of course we will.” Snow White came to the chair and sat herself daintily upon its arm. “But only if you’re very brave and very strong and very smart.”

 “And you are clearly all those things,” said Aurora, placing a fond kiss atop the girl’s head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Belle woke up.

Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise. She yawned and turned over, burying her head in her pillow. It smelled of soap and of roses too, maybe. It reminded Belle of the dream she’d just had. A memory of it danced on the edge of her mind but ran away when she reached for it.

She hoped if she went right back to sleep, she could return to that dream. She did.

As the world was waking up outside, Belle was flying through clouds and talking to birds and taming wild beasts.


End file.
